I experienced death on several occasions. At seventeen, my first personal experience was when a drunken driver struck our family vehicle during a road trip; I witnessed the death of my two younger brothers, who could not escape the flaming car. However, the death that ultimately changed my life was when my daughter Alicia died; I permitted myself to go into a confused, dark, lonely, silent space of grief.

​

My daughter, Alicia, was born beautiful, happy, and healthy. At the age of 1-1/2, she underwent exploratory surgery; over 90% of her intestines were identified as gangrenous and had to be removed, requiring Alicia to wear a colostomy bag. The physician told me, “For the rest of Alicia’s life, she would have to be fed intravenously through the use of a broviac catheter.”

​

Life for us took on a new normal as I learned to care for my now chronically ill daughter; the mental battle of not feeding her food was emotionally distressing. My own struggles led me to unhealthy eating as I purposefully avoided the scent of food flowing throughout our home and secretly ate to avoid Alicia seeing me intake foods. Months later, Alicia’s bowel was reconnected, which permitted her to attempt eating again. When she was given food, her interest and desire to eat had faded, and she found only pleasure in playing with her food by sprinkling salt and other condiments onto her plate. 

​

Alicia’s broviac catheter would periodically clog, leading to surgery. One morning, after surgery, she went into cardiac arrest, remaining comatose for ten months and passing away four months before her fourth birthday due to complications related to Short Bowel Syndrome.

​

My grief after Alicia’s death differed from that of my siblings. Perhaps it was the concept of her being my child, a gift I was blessed to conceive, carry full-term, and give birth to. From the moment she was placed in my arms, I envisioned us sharing life. And now, she’s gone forever. I felt lost, alone, angry, and scared. My life seemed like a horrible nightmare, unable to awaken; I couldn’t believe Alicia was gone FOREVER! The pain was deep and untouchable. I wanted peace but felt undeserving. I believed no one understood the depth of my fear, loneliness, pain, and sorrow after losing Alicia, my firstborn and only child!

​

I observed other grievers embracing grief as a badge of honor, as they affirmed to grieve until eternity. I, too, aligned with their grief beliefs, sinking further into my darkness. I became emotionally and physically exhausted from the intentional grief. I wanted to feel better but was bombarded with guilt for even thinking about freedom.

​

Being analytical, I observed and questioned grievers as I wondered what value they were getting from their grief. I realized their grief had no actual value. They were aligning with a myth from what someone told, someone who told someone, and they told someone, and they told them. Whether it was a transfer of words or an observation that led to mimicking, I discovered that grievers learn grievous behaviors and mindsets from listening to and watching other grievers.

​

I began examining myself and my purpose in life and was open to adjusting my mindset and believing in something new. The journey from where I was, dark, dreary, and meaningless, to where I am, free, happy, and purposeful, was long, uncomfortable, and without instructions. I figured it out! 

​

I discovered that being free from grief is healthier and safer and makes you and those around you happier. After becoming grief-free, the world opened to me with new freedom, ideas, opportunities, and perspectives. Freed from grief, I can support other mothers, women, families, and communities. Freed from grief, I now can say, “Alicia’s life gave me joy, but her death gave me purpose, and for that, I am forever grateful for the life we shared!”